Disclaimer - I don't own Assassin's Creed or Prototype franchise, they belong to their respective owners.

To Aid and to Observe

September 7th 1773

East Coast

Ratonhnhaké:ton, or as his crew called him Captain, snapped his head back as if he heard someone shouted his name, but he saw no one behind him, he began looking around, wondering why he felt this sudden chill of a scared prey in him and searching for the predator that had set its eyes on him. When he couldn't detect anyone with the intent of harming him, he relaxed slightly and thought it was just his imagination, but the Captain of Aquila was far from lowering his guard even in the ocean.

'Ah, it's good to be at sea again!' Mister Faulkner mused happily, but when his eyes settled on the cloudy sunset, a frown began to form. 'But I don't much like that sky.'

To the Kanien'kehá:ka captain, it was the old quartermaster being his usual pessimistic self and the only thing he agreed on was that something was wrong. What? It would be up for debate. Also, the sunset that currently graced their eyes was one of the rare beauties that nature was able to create. He stared at the orange hue of the sun behind the misty cloud as he lightly rebuked, 'Even a pretty sunset is a bad omen to you, Mister Faulkner.'

The captain of Aquila quickly refocused on the heavy waves and the jagged rocks as he asked, 'Where are these raiders?'

'By guess and by God an Easterly course – t'wards the coast,' the quartermaster replied as the ship took a small turn to the right where there was more space to manoeuvre and the water was calmer. 'Miss Mandy reports of some British boats gathering somewhere in these rocks, threatenin' the Vineyard.'

Dark brown eyes focused on the small civilian boat in front of his ship before a loud deafening sound of a cannon echoed air and the wood of the boat before them cracked with fire and smoke rising on the side where the cannonball had hit.

'British gunboats after one of the Vineyard's ships captain!' Mister Faulkner shouted urgently as the crew burst into action and loaded every weapon on the ship. 'We must protect her!'

'SWIVEL GUNS!' Connor ordered as the gunmen behind targeted the gunboats that were chasing the Vineyard boat, destroying them in perfect precision. 'FULL SAILS!'

Their ship quickly caught up with the small boat and the Kanien'kehá:ka kept ordering his men to use the swivel guns and only using the broadside cannons when the enemies ships were amassed on one side or the other. When there were no enemies at sight and the boat they protected was safe, Ratonhnhaké:ton thought that they were in clear.

'MINES CAPTAIN!' the quartermaster yelled as he pointed the horizon where some floating objects blocked the small path to the Vineyard. 'Destroy 'em or use 'em to our advantage. Either way, avoid the blasted things!'

'To our advantage? How?' the Captain questioned as he ordered his men to go to half sail.

'Just shoot 'em!' Faulkner cried out in annoyance as he kept gesturing at the mines.

'FIRE THE SWIVEL GUNS!' Connor ordered as he pointed at one of the mines in the middle of their path. The shot caused a massive chain of explosions and their path was cleared before any of them even blinked their eyes. So that's our advantage.

The Aquila continued onward with the civilian ship following it closely. Ratonhnhaké:ton switched his vision to that of second sense, watching as the colours of the world faded and leaving it in a pitch black place, but it was also here that he could see things more clearly and things that might have escaped his naked eyes. Immediately, red and gold lights appeared before him and he immediately shouted commands to his men, eliminating enemies with the very mines they had placed to hinder them. Soon as the smoke of the sinking ships rose from the coast, the Aquila and the small vessel reached the ocean and safety.

'She should be safe now but it's a hot chase. Get after them and end the threat on the Vineyard,' Faulkner said as they watched the merchant boat leaving the naval battlefield.

Ratonhnhaké:ton breathed a small sigh of relief as he watched the civilian vessel glided away and headed towards Vineyard, while their ship continued to chase some of the small British gunboats that had escaped the fight and they led them into a thick fog.

'They've veered north,' Faulkner remarked questioningly as the crew fired on the last ships that were visible to them and the Aquila continued on the path the escaped boats had taken. 'Naught there but an abandoned fort.'

The captain of the ship narrowed his eyes at his quartermaster's words and glared at the white mist that surrounded them. Why would the British take over an abandoned fort and threaten the Vineyard?

'FORT! FORT!' someone at the front of the ship shouted as three loud shot from some cannons sounded in the distance. Almost instantly, the thick fog lifted to reveal the fort that the quartermaster had mentioned, but it was far from being abandoned.

'That lobcock shouldn't be there!' the old man shouted incredulously.

'Well it IS there Mister Faulkner!' Connor stated in a matter-of-fact tone as he shifted the ship to port to evade the mortars raining down from the sky and it allowed the broadside cannons a clear view of the coming British ships. 'FIRE!'

'And it's too close to the Vineyard!' the old sailor shouted back. 'Time and tide waits for no man! Take out her towers!'

The captain of the Aquila quickly drew them close enough for his gunmen to damage the mortar towers considerably, destroying one in the process, before he ordered a full sail to escape the rain of fire. One of the crewmen praised loudly, 'Won't hit us with you at the helm, sir!'

The Assassin did not reply as he spotted some of the gunboats gathered at one side and were readied to shoot at them, he ducked and he yelled, 'BRACE!'

The entire crew took cover behind wood or cannon at the command as the cannonballs flew above their head and hit their ship's side, but, luckily, nothing was on fire and the damage was minimal. Instantly, they returned fire at the British gunboats. While the gunmen reloaded their weapons, Ratonhnhaké:ton took a sharp turn to evade the coming wave of mortar and tried to get closer to the fort once more to finish off two of the remaining towers that still stood from their first assault. The ship gave the fort another round full of cannonballs and the attack destroyed another tower and left the last one in flame.

The Aquila took a long turn to evade the last tower's mortars and approached the fort faster than before with the sudden rogue wind coming from behind the sails. Wait for it. Ratonhnhaké:ton thought as their ship was getting far too close to the rocky cliff and turned the wheel at the last minute, the painful sound of wood scratching heavily on rock was loud in air, before he shouted his final command, 'FIRE!'

The last strike caused the last towers to burst out bright flame and burning wood as everyone on the deck cheered boomingly at their victory. The Aquila continued its slow pace in half sail with one of the sailors taking the helm as the Assassin captain and quartermaster discussed about the currently destroyed fort.

'The fort won't be troubling anybody no-more,' Mister Faulkner muttered gladly as he stared with a stern look at the ruined walls on the cliff. 'Bloody English have gone too far this time.'

'That is the problem,' Ratonhnhaké:ton stated with consternation as he laced his hands in front of his stomach in contemplation. 'What reason would the English have to threaten Martha's Vineyard? It has no strategic value and its people remain peaceful.' A frown soon covered his face. 'I fear an influence of a different kind saw to this.'

'Templars.' It was a simple fact to the quartermaster, but to the Assassin, it made him wary and confused.

'But what they intend, I do not know,' Connor said truthfully.

'Your orders,' the old sailor asked.

'I need time to piece things together,' the Native American replied quietly. 'We set a course for home.'

'Aye, Aye, Captain,' Mister Faulkner acknowledged. 'It's probably for the best. I think your old man will have my head if we don't get home soon.'

Ratonhnhaké:ton paused for a moment at the quartermaster's last words before an alarmed expression was formed as he recalled Raké:ni's order and he turned and shouted, 'Full sail, men!'

The young Assassin soon realized that the unease feeling he had felt before the battle, most certainly, came from his Raké:ni, who discovered that he had disobeyed his command to stay at Homestead, and was probably on some kind of rampage in his absence.

One week later...

Somewhere in the Frontier...

Alex was stomping the life out of a redcoat while the bluecoats were busy defending the caravan's goods. It was his own way of dealing with his anger management and, thankfully, he had received news that one of the caravans that were supposed to deliver some of goods of the Homestead inhabitants were under attacked, otherwise he might take his anger out on someone, namely Achilles who had cheekily stated that Ratonhnhaké:ton was training but it was on the Aquila instead.

Really, if he could, he would just consumed some of these waste-of-spaces, but that would leave witnesses and that was not what he wanted in this time of age. Alex believed that he should try to antagonise some of the predator animals after he finished this boring job, he still had lots of energy to spare and his anger was far from being spent. Zeus looked around to see if there were other targets he could sink his hands on, but sadly, the battle was over and he had no more punching bags. Dull and boring... How I wish a Hunter or two are here for me to beat the crap out of them.

The Blacklight virus just heaved a huge displeased sigh before he left the caravan and the bluecoats who wore either a thankful expression or one of suspicion and fear, the latter was expectable, because he was very barbaric in his methods of disposing redcoats. How many people can beat someone to a bloody death in one to two hits? It was possibly countable in one hand.

Alex decided to head southwest of the Frontier and maybe created some huge chaos in one of the redcoats' forts that Gabriel has been thinking of looting the entire supply the British had. Perhaps that should be more satisfying than beating some grunts and he could do some little reconnaissance for his thief friend while he was at it. After all, you went into one fort; you had seen all of them.

Zeus climbed the tallest oak tree in this area, enjoying the temporary feeling of being separated from the pests below and freed of the fear that something would break under him. He hadn't consumed any beings that provided lots of biomass these days and ingesting cooked food was no different from was digesting a tiny rat. His diet had resulted a major loss in biomass, which had lessened his weight to that of an athletic disciple in parkour, less than what he had back in New York Zero and nowadays he kept his strength equalled to what he had back when he was infected by the parasite. Still, it was great to be able to enjoy such view and it was rare to feel like you were on top of 792 feet building, but a tall tree over a tall cliff was the closest thing to it.

A familiar ear-piercing cry sounded above him and Alex just looked over his hunched shoulder to see the bald eagle perched on its usual spot on the solitary branch on the top of the tree. Hello to you too. The virus thought before he gathered his biomass to his bended knees, readied for a long distant jump, and threw himself into the air, startling the soon-to-be America's symbol from its spot at his sudden move.

His jump easily got him over small non-existent villages and loud redcoat patrols that covered the entire Frontier, he landed heavily among the thick trees that covered the back of the houses and farms that were built alongside the river. Alex knew that if he followed the dirt path that cut between the farms, he would arrive sooner or later at the nearest fort.

As he casually, or as casually as someone like him was capable of without looking like an animal in a human skin, walked out of the forest and onto the small road. Alex took only a few steps in advance before his enhanced hearing picked up some sounds of desperate pleadings and someone being beaten. Redcoats again... They seem to multiply in these parts... Well, at least it will fun.

As the Blacklight virus picked another road to get to the fort, the usually quiet Assassins in his hive mind began thrashing about and protesting like a mad mob.

What are you doing?

What are you thinking?

Help them!

Where do you think you are going?

They are in danger!

Helping the innocents is part of our Creed, Mercer.

You are part of the Brotherhood now! Our Creed demands us to help them!

SHUT UP! Alex mentally shouted as he stopped rigidly on the road. Immediately the Assassins shut up, but the antagonizing feelings practically radiated from them as they glared at the back of his mind. Let me ask you guys a little question: What's stopping me from walking away?

Your conscious. All the souls answered, except the mute Master Assassin in the group. Zeus scoffed loudly at the response as he kept going in the opposite direction of the noises.

Assassin mentally tapped him and signed with his hands. "We will not bother you after you help them."

'Oh really,' Alex muttered in fake-cheer. 'You guys won't bother me. For a minute.'

The Master Assassin insistently signed. "We will not speak unless it concerns the matters of our Brothers."

'Right,' the virus drawled as he continued forward in a slow pace.

"We swear." The Assassin signed as he sent a withering glared at some of the souls who were protesting at their leader's deal. "Please."

The Prototype slowed to a stop as he mentally struggled with Shakespeare's well-known quote of "to-be-or-not-to-be". On one hand, he did not want to help some strangers out of GOODNESS... of all things. On the other hand, he could really use some silence in his mind. Cries of agony and rage, he could deal with, but not whining and pleading.

'FINE,' Alex groaned as he turned around and headed towards the direction that caused his current problem. You better keep your words or I'll throw you guys in with the screamers.

The virus unhappily stomped towards the source and spotted an old woman and a young man being held by redcoats whose group was surrounded with tore bags of clothes and overturned chests full of books. It didn't take an idiot to figure out what had happened here.

'Bastadi! Capisci? Idiot brutti!' the woman shouted venomously in Italian and earned a slap for her foul language.

'Mother' the man yelled as he struggled harder against his beating assailants, spitting the same foul words in Italian. 'Luridi cordardi! Pezzo di merda! Puttana! Cazzo!'

'Take what you deserve, rebel!' the commanding officer of the group said on top of his horse.

He heavily tapped the first grunt's shoulder whose eyes left the abusing scene in time to receive a heavy punch from behind that sent him crashing into one of his compatriot who held the injured farmer. Alex smirked viciously at the wide-eyed audience as he cracked his knuckles and challenged, 'Which one of you wants to die next?'

The leader redcoat spurred his steed forward as he raised his sword in the air and tried to cut him down, but Zeus caught his wrist and with a small flick of his arm, he pulled the man off of his ride and landed with a painful crunch on the ground before he broke his neck with a swift stomp. The action snapped the soldiers into action as they abandoned the prey in favour to kill the bastard who made a fool out of them.

The first three sped towards him with their musket's bayonet, using their firearm as a spear while the other three at the back were preparing their guns. Alex grabbed the closest musket and knocked its user hard before he took the weapon off of the loosen fingers and slit the soldier's throat in a quick horizontal arc with the blade. Afterwards he used the loaded musket to fire on the next charging redcoat and used the butt of the weapon to crash the other's skull. By the time, the last man fell with a bloody nose and broken skull, the three remaining redcoats had their readied musket on him and were about to fire if Zeus didn't throw the musket like a spear and killed the one who was shouting the steps, successfully distracting the two men. He lunged forward like a cougar and wrapped his arm around the neck of one of them, constricting the man's windpipe, as he punched his partner square in the face.

Alex watched indifferently as the redcoat fell to the ground with a pained groan as he took his bruised face in his hands, he looked down at the struggling man in his arm before he took hold of his head with his free hand and gave it a sharp twist, killing him, as he advanced on the last living man and finished him with a kick at the face.

The Blacklight virus dusted his hands as he carefully approached the couple and asked, 'Are both of you, alright?'

The knelt woman held her boy close to her as she muttered softly in a bit of French and English, 'Merci. Thank you for your help.'

'What happened?' Alex unconsciously asked, despite seeing the answer clearly in front of him.

At the question, the woman frowned and a fire returned to her as she stated angrily, 'They accused us of being rebelli and demanded us to give them all of our possession. My figlio, Lucio, and I refused and you saw what happened next.' She gestured to her surroundings. 'I am a teacher. How dare they think of me as an insurrectionist.'

She looked down sadly at Luca as she continued, 'I'm afraid we have nothing to give you in thanks, signore.'

Alex rubbed his neck awkwardly as his mind wandered back to Dana, to his dear little sister, to a good woman who had treated him with kindness when she did not have to and saw him as family. He let out a sigh as he started slowly, 'Maybe you can come with me.'

'Mi scusi?' the woman uttered with a questioning gaze.

Alex knelt down as he explained as gently as he could, 'I live in a small community not far from here. There are two families with children in need of a teacher, because their parents couldn't teach them themselves. Perhaps you can teach them how to read and write?'

Both of them looked at each other in disbelief of the offer as the lady said in a whisper, 'What kindness is this? We'll certainly come. Thank you.'

Pale blue eyes looked over mother and son before he asked uncertainly, 'Will both of you be alright? I can bring you guys there now.'

'It is alright sir,' the mother said with a bright smile. 'We will come as soon as Lucio is healed.'

'Oh,' Alex sounded as he continued rubbing the back of his neck. 'If you still need help, there's an old lady named Giry who lives in northern outskirt of Boston, tell her that her Native friend sends you there and she will help you get there.'

'Thank you, good sir,' the injured man said weakly, but he still forced his lips to stretch into a grateful smile.

The virus forced a smile on his lips, but it was straining and abnormal to him. He quickly left with a small farewell to the two Italians before he headed back to Homestead with a frown that scared whoever spotted him on the road. The reconnaissance of the fort would have to wait.

A few hours later, just as the sun began setting.

Alex stood on top of the rocky cliff that overlooked the entire Davenport Homestead. The clouds that were coloured red brought back unpleasant memories of New York's final days, Zeus sighed as he sat on the edge, with one hand on one bended knee and the others were dangling on the empty space, staring down at the small world below. He would admit that Homestead was different from the rest of the world, everyone who came here had nothing but pure intentions and they worked and helped each others because they wanted to. It was similar to Kanatahséton and its people, more so than those who lived in Boston, in which people looked after their own and pushed those newcomers away.

He tucked his chin on top of the bended knee as he let his eyes drift close and listened to the songs spun from the wild wind, the clear running water and the various cries from different animals that inhabited from within this land. It was a peaceful moment, one of the few he ever had.

The peace was shattered when the virus heard the bell from the port ringing, his closed eyes shot instantly and he stood up sharply in a second, his head turned to face the distant sea where a ship was slowly sailing into the bay. A DAMAGED ship.

Before Alex realized it, he had jumped off of the cliff and landed on the pile of leaves with a loud crack, he silently cursed himself for his reckless move as he quickly got out of the pile and kept running towards the port, ignoring the numbing pain from his fall. God, I hate gravity.

He ran past everyone like brakeless train and left everyone coughing at the dust his haste had made, not they were important right now. No, what was on the top of his list was to find Ratonhnhaké:ton, a shout or two, a lecture and a week of INTENSE trainings, maybe grounded him for a month or three. No, six months was a better number. No leaving Homestead, no visit to Kanatahséton, no hunting, NO ANYTHING!

When he reached the port in a record time, the dust was heavy in the air and every worker paused in what they were doing to stare at him, but they soon paled at his angry look and all of them moved in a quicker pace. Alex crossed his arms as he watched with a critical eye as the ship's anchor dropped and some crewmembers were moving a gangplank to cover the small space that separated the ship and the small harbour. Three of the crewmen stepped off of the ship, but they soon slowed to a stop when they spotted him, the men just turned on their heels and retreated back to the ship, keeping a safe distance from him and observing him like skittish animals. Soon, the group of three soon grew to three quarter of the crew number.

The virus felt his anger rising at the sailors' stare and howled at them like a mad animal, 'ARE YOU GUYS GOING TO LEAVE OR DO I NEED TO THROW ALL OF YOU OFF BOARD?!'

'NO SIR!' everyone shouted in unison as if they were soldiers from an army and left hurriedly past him with a speed that surpassed human's normal capacity. He ignored their existence and focused more on glaring at the empty space on the deck. Fumingly wondering where the hell was Ratonhnhaké:ton before his ears picked up a small whispering conversation under the deck from the old quartermaster who explained in a hush-hush tone, 'Sorry, Captain, but the Aquila's the safest place to evade your old man. We are not leaving until he leaves.'

'You talk as if Raké:ni is a monster,' the captain of the ship said disapprovingly.

'He is when he's angry,' Faulkner replied as some of the remaining crewmembers muttered in agreement.

Silence. Afterwards, heavy footsteps could be heard stepping on wood and the trapdoor on the deck opened to reveal Ratonhnhaké:ton in his Assassin robes. Alex restrained himself in not jumping on the young man with claws and fangs out and yelled the ears off of him. For almost a month, a few days and some hours, the virus had this whole lecture or cursing readied, but when he noticed the tensed shoulders, clenched jaw and averting eyes, his voice was stuck deep in his throat as he swallowed his words of anger. He knew the boy well enough to know that it was his guilty look and many a soul inside him tried to smooth his raising temper and told him to listen to the child before doing anything terrible.

So, instead of acting rashly as he had initially decided, Alex simply crossed his arms over his chest and stare at the Assassin-in-training with a stern glare as he spoke in a calmly manner, 'Why did you disobey my words?'

Ratonhnhaké:ton flinched as if he was struck by his words and looked everywhere but his surrogate father. The virus waited patiently for an answer or an explanation from the young man.

'I'm sorry Raké:ni,' the Native Assassin said after staying silent for three minutes or so.

The innocent words made him wished he could be void of the unnecessary and hindering thing known to humans as feelings. Alex went to pinch the bridge of his nose as he said, 'I am not mad at you. I am mad at the fact that you've left when I have strictly told you to remain in Homestead.'

'I... have no excuse for what I've done,' Ratonhnhaké:ton said lamely.

A heavy silence settled over them as some of the workers tip-toed past them and did their best to remain invisible to the two Natives though most were expecting some sort of loud confrontation from the elder of the two. Alex took the Assassin's hand and began guiding them back to the mansion, surprising everyone within the port.

'Raké:ni?' the young man intoned questioningly as he was dragged forward.

'I forgive you for your little STUNT,' Alex stated calmly and ignored the Assassin's cheek flared red. 'But you have made a mistake and you will receive punishment for your error just as anyone who has broken a rule. Yours will be to collect enough money and materials to build a small school.'

'School?' Ratonhnhaké:ton repeated the foreign word. 'What's a school?'

Fire... Burning red flames... Fire that destroyed everything... It had been a part of my life... My whole life...

The first fire... had laid his home to waste and shattered his family... Pointy-Ear... and others brought the fire into his warm home...

The second fire... had taken the woman he loved from him...

The third fire... was there a third? No, no flames, no light...

What's–

AHHH! HELP US! WHY DID THEY ABANDON US?! YOU SAY OUR CHILDREN WILL SURVIVE! WE DON'T WANT TO DIE! I DON'T WANT MY CHILD TO DIE!

People were dying... all around him...

The night sky was colourful for a moment before a blinding flash white covered it and everything burned...

A woman, whose ethereal appearance indicated that she was not a human but a goddess, stared right into his eyes with a small smile as she spoke calmly and evenly.

"I see my call has reached someone. Welcome to the Nexus, Haytham Kenway."

The Templar glared at the woman in suspicion as he went for a weapon that was not with him. The golden hue that surrounded made her smile that of a smile with dark intent in a shade that matched her raven coloured hair as she said, "Do not be alarmed. I am Juno, I might be known to you as The-One-Who-Came-Before. This is nothing but a message that I and my people had left behind. I sent this message to you, because of your bloodline. A very special bloodline."

The Grand Master narrowed his eyes at the mischievous smirk as Juno continued, "Sadly, I bring nothing but dire news to you. A long time ago, my people sought a way to protect ourselves from a coming disaster, but our search ended in failures and we had no choice, other than leaving clues and knowledge for your race, hoping you might not share the same fate as ours. My warning is of a monster that will prevent you and your Order from finding said knowledge."

The dream morphed to show the shadow of a man with sharp claws for fingers and red glowing tendrils covering his body as the monster mercilessly devoured an innocent child. The blood was dripping down to the ground that soon became a bloody red lake.

Haytham's gaze was drawn back to Juno who stared grimly at the image as she whispered, "If IT survives, the Templar Order is doomed to be destroyed. Unless..." Juno stressed the word with a lifted finger. "You lure it to the Sacred Cave and let the power resting there imprison the creature and the path to its secret will be revealed to you. This is the only chance you have, Haytham Kenway..."

The Grandmaster Templar's eyes shot open in shock and he instinctively released the blade of his hidden weapon, his dark eyes looked at every corner of the room wildly like an animal trying to find the predator hiding in the shadow. Breathing heavily for a minute with fear and adrenaline rushing through his veins, Haytham carefully relaxed himself as he took steady breath to keep his heart from beating any faster as he made his way to the window, believing that some fresh air would help him getting rid the last of his irrational fear.

The cool air of Boston night did nothing to dispel the horror he had witnessed in his dream and his heart kept hammering loudly in his ribcage. The old Templar thought back of the distressful warning from the woman, who he was certain was one of the Precursor beings that was written in the Italian Assassin's journal that held precise details that described his encounter with the ethereal being. Haytham closed his eyes firmly as he recalled the monster that was devouring the child and the soulless gaze that bore into his. If the warning was true, then their Order was in danger, so were the Colonists and the Natives if this creature was unleashed to the world.

The British's thoughts strayed to the reason why he was staying in this inn and to his friend. Haytham knew that he might be too late in keeping Alex from committing himself to the Assassin Brotherhood and their Creed, but he rather died trying to stop Ziio's clanbrother than faced the man on the opposite end of the battlefield. So far, none of his men were able to find Alex and he decided to search for him himself.

Deciding that it would difficult for him to sleep again, he quickly put on his equipments and the necessary rations for the trip. The Templar quietly made his way down to the small stable where his horse was resting. His men went to search for his friend in different territories around America, but Haytham wanted to confirm his suspicions that concerned one piece of land that he and Shay Conrac, an Assassin hunter and fellow Templar, had left to rot years ago.

'It's going to be a long journey, Jim,' the Grand Master whispered quietly to his ride as he smoothed the animal's tensed neck. 'I have wasted enough time by trusting in my men in their search, but I need to reach Homestead fast and it's going to be a hard travel for you.'

The horse shook its head lightly as if trying to tell him that he would comply as best as it could to his order, before it trotted out of the stable with a neigh, disappearing with its rider into the misty night of Boston's street.

November 12th...

Homestead...

Alex was looking with a pleased smirk at the rather rapid construction of the small school for Lucio and his mother along with the tavern for the married innkeepers Oliver and Corrine. Of course, he had spent some nights secretly continuing with the construction with his unnatural strength, with none of the Homesteaders wiser, it was far faster and less waiting for the families who did not have a roof over their head. Also, it was to keep his mind from his unofficial son's visit to his tribe, personally he would like to have Ratonhnhaké:ton within his sight, he knew very well that he was slowly turning into a grown man, but this Papa Wolf instinct, as he heard some of the wives in Homestead referred to his distressful and wounded wolf look, that often surfaced when the child was away. Therefore to keep that infamous nickname to be uttered by any of the matriarchs, he kept himself busy instead of walking in circles in the opening or in the mansion with different degrees of imagined dangerous scenarios of the Native Assassin might encountered on his way home.

'Hey, Iskandar!' Terry called out from the snow-covered beam of the second level of a half completed tavern he was sitting on with a small hammer in one hand and a fluttering large blanket that was meant to cover the unfinished level until next spring. 'I need a bigger hammer up here! This' stubborn!'

'That's only because, you're ya weaklings, Terry!' Godfrey shouted on the half completed rooftop.

'Oh, shut your trap!' Terry replied with a flying wooden board aiming for his fellow co-worker's head.

'Why you little!' A hammer went flying, followed by various materials and tools with a few more added insults and threats.

'ENOUGH!' the virus shouted from below ignoring the scene they were causing from sailors and travellers alike. 'If you two want to fight, take it else where! There is still a lot of works to do and you don't want the ONLY suppliers of ales in the area to wait for another DECADE for a reliable source of income to get those toxic drinks of yours!'

'FINE!' was a strained reply from both side.

'Those guys can enact their vision of a World War 3,' the Prototype muttered under his breath as he went to small home that was connected the almost finished school to see how the Corsicans were doing.

The disguised virus knocked on the intricate door, the image of the a female Aquarius if he had to guess or maybe the Virgin Mary, the elder Albertine was the person who answered the door and she looked less ruffled after some rest and stability in the recent days and she looked rather excited to start teaching. Lucio hadn't found some kind of interest in whatever job there was, so he took the job as a butler of sort in the mansion and an assistant to his mother's teachings. They were still trying to sort out their languages, because they travelled to different places and spoke in different native tongue of the country that they began having trouble in speaking one language without adding another in their speech, it was a slow progress, but one that would be adapted when spring came around the corner.

'How are the two adjusting in Homestead?' Mercer asked politely as he sat down on the offered chair.

'It was good to be finally able to stay in one place instead constantly moving from town to town and country to country,' the elder lady answered with a small smile, hands rubbing the wrists lightly, a gesture that often attracted others' attention to the barely concealed old scars of a heavy set of handcuffs on them, but none of them asked the origins of those marks and kept their lips sealed. 'How I miss the days when I could walk on the streets without the constant fear of my knowledge bringing enemies to our doorstep. I am glad to have a peaceful place to spend the rest of my life in.'

'Knowledge? You mean your studies in multiple languages?' the Blacklight asked curiously.

'Also of old languages and the study of code breaking,' the old woman said as she leaned against the rocking chair, looking peaceful and at ease. 'At least they will one day die with me and Lucio will be free from the shadow it cast upon him.'

'I'm sorry for whatever happened to you and your son,' Alex said softly.

'Do not worry, my friend,' Monica replied with a smile. 'I have done my part in this life. I am ready to meet the end of my journey, but I still worry for Lucio. He has suffered a great trauma as a young man and he trusted people less and often hated many. I hope that my child will no longer suffer whatever tortures his mind.'

The humanoid virus was silent for a second before he said, 'I'm sure one day he would leave that baggage behind.'

'I pray so too,' the old lady replied as she placed her hand over his. 'It is kind of you to say this, Iskandar. Or do you prefer King of Conquerer?'

Alex scoffed at the jab to his fake name before he replied earnestly and seriously, 'I am simply Iskandar of Davenport Homestead and one of the FEW people who actually have some senses in repairing and developing the estate. I have no interest in conquering sadly.'

Monica giggled lightly before she began making a shooing gesture as she said tiredly, 'Now this old lady needs rest before she has to deal with more children. Go, go, go!'

'Alright, alright, alright already,' the Prototype said in surrender as he quickly escaped through the door and laughing freely.

'YOU BASTARD!' Lucio's voice sounded in the frosty air.

'Now what?' Alex muttered furiously as he approached the source where the noises were coming from and spotted Terry and Gregory barely holding back Lucio who looked like a murderous hound. When his dark coloured eyes reached what had filled the young Albertine with a large amount of hatred, his own anger rose as much and he felt his arms were barely shifting, thick veins were pumping and glowing in red. Alex gritted his teeth as he forced himself to keep his emotions in check and his body from reacting to his desire to switch normal limbs to sharp deadly claws or an enormous blade.

The Blacklight virus slowly walked towards the small ground with a frown and hands stuck to his sides, when he was close enough to be heard, Alex ordered coolly, 'Terry, Godfrey, can you two take Lucio back his house?' When the two struggling lumberers just stared at him in question, Alex's gaze turned to subzero degree. 'NOW.'

The two married men nodded quickly with a nervous look as they pulled the Corsican away from the man, but Monica's child was shouting different curses at the British until he was too far to be heard. Alex waited until the trio had put enough distance between them before he turned his Gorgon-like gaze on the Templar as he whispered harshly, 'You're coming with me.'

The Prototype headed towards one of the wild paths he liked to use to get to the feet of the mountains in the west, a silent and isolated part that none of the Homesteaders had ever set foot at, because it was a thriving location of predator animals like wolves and horned ones that would fight against their attackers to survive. Except Myriam who hunted animals' skin and meat for a living, but the huntress rarely headed towards parts which did not have any of her hunting posts, so this was the ideal location to murder Kenway.

A perfect grave for him... Alex thought as his irises shone a small hint of red.

Haytham was shocked to see Lucio again after what had happened in October 1757, the Corsican who was his would-be murderer, but he did not blame him, not then and certainly not now. When he still believed in Reginald, he brought the naïve child to the previous Grandmaster without questions and thought that both mother and son would be well-treated by his mentor. When he saw them chained up, he still stubbornly thought it would get better with his threatening warnings towards Birch. In the end, the damage was done, four years of imprisonment had brought the young innocent man over the edge and the first thing Lucio did when he was freed was to kill the man who was responsible to the misery he and his mother had suffered.

It would have been a repeat in history if some lumberers hadn't stepped in and were now holding the Corsican back from trying to commit murder in front of sailors and travelers alike, though the surprises of the day were far from ending as he found himself face-to-face with Alex who had requested the lumberers, Terry and Godfrey, to take Lucio to his house, leaving them alone. The Templar walked into a sealed cage with a starved wolf, judging by the glare on his friend's face, he might as well be a Cerberus in disguise, but he had to make amends with Alex.

When he followed the Native until they reached an isolated part of Homestead, Kenway decided that it was right place and time to come clean with the Native American.

'Alex, we need to talk. I–Umph!' Before he could finish and Haytham found himself slammed against the nearest tree. His throat was instantly dried as he felt the fingers settled onto the old fading mark it had left almost a year ago.

'I told you,' the Native whispered darkly as if he expected someone to overhear their conversation. 'You get anywhere NEAR ANYONE–'

'You have to listen to me,' Haytham interrupted adamantly, ignoring the fingertips that felt like sharp claws trying to bury themselves into his throat. 'Yes, I admit, I have lied. Everything I have written to you is all lies, but that night, everything I have said is the truth. I did not harm any of your tribesmen, nor did I order my men to kill Ziio and burn your village.'

His friend's face still remained marred with a frown, but his eyes shown a tiny little hint of hesitation, seeing it surprised the Templar as much as it fuelled him with hope. Actually, the only time he had seen this small glint of hesitation from the often determined Native was a few weeks after he ransacked Fort St-Mathieu.

December 24th 1754

It was another cold winter day in the Colony, though everyone was spirited by the festivity of Christmas Eve and many families were staying within their warm home. There were some, like him, were unaffected by the special day of the month. Haytham Kenway had long lost the desire to join the celebration or the illusion of the merriment, since the tragedy that had broken his family and he put all of his focus in both training and search for the men responsible for the murder of his father. The Templar rarely had time to enjoy this silly merriment. The only problem was, he seemed to be the only in Boston and its surrounding area to not have any love for Christmas.

Even his own men were addicted to it, for one reason or another. Hickey loved it, because of the increased amount of women and drinks in the tavern; Pitcairn had left a week ago with his permission to spend some time with his family; Johnson was visiting some hunters in the Frontier with some small Christmas decorations; and Lee was trying to please him by remaining nonchalant to celebration. In the end, Haytham just brushed him off and told Charles to enjoy Christmas before he left Wright Tavern for a walk.

Shrugging off the cold biting his bones and snow falling over him, it was when he reached the northern outskirts of Lexington that he spotted a strange sight. He saw Zeus walking with a British soldier, the man was a quivering mess beside the stoic Native American, though what was curious about this peculiar scene was that the Regular did not appear to have been seriously beaten or maimed in any way.

When they reached one of the main streets that cut through the small town, the Mohawk stopped, looking over his shoulder to the soldier, and said roughly, 'This is Lexington.'

'Ys–es sir I know... sir...' the Regular stuttered as he gripped his musket tighter.

'Tch,' Zeus uttered as he was about to go back to snowy path that they took to reach the town when the soldier called out to him hesitantly.

'Thank you... for not killing me... and... helping me,' the soldier stuttered nervously.

Kenway watched as the Native American's harsh gaze softened to the point that it shown his hesitation, a rare flaw from his usual stern or displease features. The cold mask of indifference soon returned, but his voice betrayed his inhuman illusion, 'You're welcome.'

Before the soldier could say another word, the Mohawk had already left. Haytham watched as the young man uttered another thanks to Zeus and left hurriedly to one of the houses of the main street. The Templar quickly followed the trail of footprints on the snow and found his ally, leaning against a tree and glaring at him, as he demanded, 'Why are you spying me? We already have a deal.'

While Haytham was surprised that he was detected by the hunter, he dipped his tricorn hat lightly as he greeted calmly, 'A good evening to you too.'

The pleasantry was lost to the Native who stood still like a statue that was sculpted for the sole purpose of intimidating anyone who settled their eyes on it. The Grandmaster of the Colonial Rites immediately switched tactics and said, 'That is merciful of you, sparing the soldier, I am certain you would have kill him without a second thought. After all, he is one of Braddock's man.'

'That man only wants to spend his Christmas with his sister instead of a bunch of brainless pigs in the camp,' Zeus replied icily, if Haytham ever needed to describe it, he could only think the man spoke the words like an angry and hissing feline. 'He isn't the enemy and Oiá:ner will certainly throw me into the ocean for abandoning a Two-Spirit on his own.'

The Kenway's scion was trying to repeat the name in his mind, but it was all tongue-tied and sounded far different from the name the Mohawk said. Two-Spirit? That's a strange word.

Curiously, Haytham asked, 'What is a Two-Spirit? Is that the name you give to the Christians?'

'Huh?' Zeus uttered, probably not expecting him to ask something about his culture. Then again, Braddock was still telling his men that the Natives ate human flesh and an addicting love for blood of white people. He really should have expected the man's astonishment at his inquiry. 'Do you really need to know?'

'It is a simple curiosity. Nothing more, Zeus,' the Templar answered, assuring his ally that he had ulterior motive in his question.

'If you know the meaning of the word, your reaction will much more severe,' the hunter said nonchalantly as a small mischievous smirk was stretched on his lips. 'Well, why not? I doubt you will tell a soul about it. It is a common term amongst the different tribes that stretched across this continent. Two-Spirit refers to men or women who have both the qualities of a man and a woman. I believe your SOCIETY abhorred the idea of a man liking another man or a man doing womanly chores and the same thing can be said about a woman acting like a male.'

Haytham was silenced for a moment as Zeus' words slowly sank in and realization soon surfaced as he said in a slightly nervous tone, 'I see...'

That would indeed be an awkward subject of discussion, judging by the hunter's satisfied grin, he decided to share that piece of information to embarrass him. The British never really questioned people's interest of their own gender and he had not qualm against them, their Order never really cared about such subjects and as long that it did affect the agents' training and work, it was left alone. Haytham understood how sore of a subject this would be if it was ever revealed to the Colonists or British, the Templar was sure they would eradicated every clan in existence from the face of the earth for their acceptance of Two-Spirits.

Zeus chuckled deeply, a sound that was unfamiliar to the Templar, before he continued, 'Not all Two-Spirit likes their own GENDER. It is just as the word meant; someone with two spirits or a body with two identities. Some of them can continue living like any person you meet on the road. To put it in simpler explanation, we do not see it as a problem in them or even a mistake that condone death as your Church does. We choose to see it as a gift.'

'Before you ask how I know Thomas is a Two-Spirit, I discover him being harassed by his own group, I intervene and got him away before anyone does any serious damage to him,' finished the hunter as he glanced in the general direction where the Regular's house was. 'His superior will not miss him anytime soon.'

Haytham was almost certain that Zeus had killed those men, a minor distraction to Braddock and his inner circle men, but it should give the young man some time to spend with his family, seeing that the Bulldog cared less about the morale or the number of men he had under him. A loud bell sounded in the distance, pulling the two men away from their inner thoughts. The British knew the long deep sound of the bell told the villagers that it was Christmas Day.

The Templar tilted his head to the side as he recalled the happier days of his childhood. Warm and cozy within the walls of his house, while waiting for their dinner feast, his father and mother danced and laughed happily, Jenny simply sat in her favourite armchair next to the fireplace and read a book with a small smile, and he sat cross-legged on the floor next to the Christmas tree, watching his parents danced like the figures in mother's music box. Those joyful days were long gone, but his memories of them were still as cleared as the day he had witnessed them.

'Oh, right, it's Christmas, isn't it?' Zeus' distant voice mused.

'...Yes,' Haytham answered distracted by the small tune the bell was making. 'AGH!'

The Templar jumped back a few steps as his hand reached to where something solid hit him seconds ago, his palm felt wet snow on his cape and the other hand was tensed to release the hidden blade. His eyes settled on the grinning hunter who had a snowball in his hand. It did not take an idiot to know who attacked him previously. Haytham hissed out angrily, 'That is not amusing, Zeus.'

Zeus' smirk widen as he replied, 'It's Christmas and that is your present under the fir.'

This time Kenway was readied and jumped to the side from the second projectile. Before he realized it, they were playing an all-out snowball war like some children. It was not the best Christmas of his life, but the present, as Zeus put it, was best one he had since he had joined the Templar Order, a moment of blissful peace and a friendship that might last for the rest of his lifetime.

The British grimaced at the memory, lamenting the friendship he had ruined with his own hands and the love he had abandoned without a fight. The pressure on his neck quickly drew him back to the horrible reality that his first friend in the Colonies was going to murder him. He watched the dark eyes reflecting his face and the merciless glint within them. The Templar felt the fingers flexing as they readied to crush his throat.

What came next startled him so much that he laid on the snow where he had landed, he slowly got up to a sitting position and looked at his friend whose hands were shaking in strain before he barked out, 'Leave this property! I do not want to see you anywhere near the women, men and children who live on this land and Mohawk Valley! If your men ever step into Homestead or my village, I will kill them as a Colonial Assassin!'

'Do you know what it means to be an Assassin?' Haytham demanded as he stood up and gestured to the manor in the distance. 'Do you think that placing your trust in Davenport will help your people? Or allow you to achieve vengeance? Did you know that the man destroyed two cities and would have continued on with his rampage, ignoring the number of innocents who might die in the process, just to get artefacts of the Precursors?'

Alex's face turned feral as he replied, 'I do not trust Davenport, but let assure you that I choose to become an Assassin of my own freewill. I don't care what the old man has done, whether he has murdered ten thousand people or more. I will make sure that you see everything your Templar Order had achieved for so long to lay in ruins in front of your own eyes by an Assassin.'

Haytham tightened his left hand, feeling it shaking from his anger, as he breathed heavily and slowly relaxed his body. The Grandmaster understood that nothing would change and his words were meaningless to an Assassin. He stood back and faced the enemy of the Templars.

'Very well,' the Templar started calmly as he straightened his clothes. 'You do not need to worry, I still have my honour. I will make sure that none of my men will harm the villagers whether they are from Homestead or Mohawk Valley.' He lowered his hat slightly before he turned around and headed towards the stable of the tavern. 'I bid you a good day, Assassin.'

Grandmaster Kenway of the Colonial Rites left Homestead without another word, leaving his former friend behind and departing as enemies on the opposite sides of the chessboard. The two kings returned to the respective square, pawns would be sacrificed, towers would need to be defended, knights would clash on the battlefield, bishops would be readied for quick execution, and only the queens, the most powerful chess pieces, were missing on board...

This is actually the longest chapter I have written this story, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!